


Let Me Put It This Way

by Exousiha



Series: Corrupted Lungs [3]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, One Shot, Shrios, can they be both?, why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 14:37:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10878858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exousiha/pseuds/Exousiha
Summary: Commander Shepard falls asleep on an assassin's shoulder. Inspired by "Let Me Put It This Way" by Simon Armitage. (Some graphic imagery.)





	Let Me Put It This Way

 "Commander, it's late," Thane said, surprised at the Commander's entrance. He hurriedly closed the book he was reading and subtly covered the title with his hands. He did not want to reveal that he was reading a compilation of Earth's love poems. Today, he was facing away from the Normandy's drive core. He found the light illuminated the pages in a beautiful, fluid way.

He wanted to know the words that humans crafted in order to show his affection.

"Come on, Thane. Don't call me that, it's late," Shepard sighed, falling down onto his cot of a bed and laying down on it. Her body fit it exactly, but there was a little space as she bent her legs ever-so-slightly.

" _Siha_. What are you doing here, you should get some rest."

"Does  _siha_ mean... Warrior?" Shepard turned her head, her nose scrunched a little as she thought hard for what his endearment could possibly mean.

"You are close. But not quite there yet," Thane smiled a little, sliding his book from the table to his lap.

"Agh," Shepard sighed, a smile though she sounded frustrated. "So many unknowns." Her voice sounded distant as her eyes looked past Thane and towards the drive core. Her eyes danced with the lights of the drive core.

"I have a feeling your mind is elsewhere. Somewhere far beyond this room," Thane observed.

"Did I make it that obvious?" Shepard laughed, turning her head from the drive core to look at the ceiling. "What were you reading before I interrupted you?"

 _You can't interrupt time that is solely yours_ , Thane thought to himself. "Just a compilation of Earth poems," he replied.

"I was never a recreational reader of poetry," Shepard mused. "Ashley was. Kinda got me into it before Virmire. Haven't touched those books since."

"Did you find enjoyment in those texts?" Thane asked, his grip on the spine of the book tightening.

"I think I did. Military life is cut and dry. Sure there's a lot to memorize. Lots of history lessons and routines, to make sure that you don't mess up and repeat the past and so when you do mess up, you survive to tell everyone else about it. Everything is in and out. A little bit of heart, a little bit more brain, but mostly a whole lot of brawn," Shepard exhaled. "Reading poetry is the opposite. Reading anything is, but poetry is a simple connection of words to a complexity of thoughts. There's so much brainpower and emotions involved. It had me using everything except my muscles. It was like accessing a part of me I didn't know existed. I didn't know how to put words to it but then I read poem after poem of people who've already done it for me..." Shepard paused, before laughing a little. "Yeah, I guess you could say I did find enjoyment in them. But then she died and I died and it's been a bit of a whirlwind since...

"I don't know what it is about you that makes me blather on and on. You're probably sick and tired of that by now."

 _I could listen to you for eternity_. 

"Nonsense. You could create poetry out of those thoughts, Shepard," Thane confessed.

"If I did, no-one would ever read them. Or if they did, they wouldn't live for very long," Shepard joked.

"Poetry doesn't have to be read by anyone. But those who do trust themselves to writing down what's inside their head... I think the act of putting ink to paper is a feat unto itself. It's a form of honesty and catharsis, even if no-one sees a word of it."

"You sound so damn sure of it, I'm sure it's true," Shepard smiled, turning her head towards him.

Thane got up from his chair and walked to the cot.

"Sit up."

Shepard did and Thane sat next to her. He put his back straight up against the wall and opened the book of poetry.

"Read with me." He opened the book and held it out so both of them could see. His hands still covered the title. Most poems were love poems, but he was hoping she wouldn't insist on knowing about the specific nature of the particular compilation or guess at his intentions for having it, although it was getting harder each passing day for him to hide his affections. Shepard shuffled on the cot, until she sat next to Thane. She allowed their shoulders to touch, and Thane was compelled with the sudden urge to control his breathing.

"How about this- You could read _for_ me," Shepard suggested as she closed her eyes and let her head rest against the wall. Thane thought it could hardly be comfortable, but refrained from saying so out loud.

"I'm guessing that's more of an order than a request, Shepard?"

"Damn right it is. You've got a great voice, Krios."

"Did you recruit me for my skills as an assassin or an orator?"

"Why not both?"

"Fair enough," Thane chuckled. His heart felt like it was dancing. He cleared his throat and picked up from where he left off.

_"It was many and many a year ago,_

_In a kingdom by the sea..."_

* * *

 

_"... Let me put it this way:_

_If you came to lay_

_your sleeping head_

_against my arm or sleeve,_

_and if my arm went dead,_

_or if I had to take my leave_

_at midnight, I should rather_

_cleave it from the joint or seam_

_than make a scene_

_or bring you round._

_There,_

_how does that sound?"_

Thane's voice was a little scratchy after reading for well over half an hour straight. He amused himself with the idea of grabbing a cup of tea to soothe his chords when he made the mistake of glancing down at Shepard whose head had fallen onto his shoulder halfway through the reading.

Perhaps it was the latest reading or perhaps it was the warmth he felt somewhere deep within himself that made itself known whenever she was around, but seeing her head resting on his shoulder make every muscle freeze in place so not to disturb the placid contentment on her face. Her mouth hung open and there might have been a small sliver of drool escaping her mouth, but her eyelids were shut and her eyes moved under them softly, as if she were stuck in a dream.

She looked as though she were in some distant place, where there were no obligations or fear of the unknown following and haunting her every step. Her breaths were not laborious or strained, or forced out of her in an all-too-familiar sigh. She looked unburdened and relaxed.

He imagined pulling a large knife from beside his bed and removing his arm from him and gently lowering it down on the bed with the Commander so she would not feel a prying hand moving her from her place. He would drink his fill and slowly raised his arm back to his socket, sewing himself back together before she woke up, so she could get her sleep, and he could hydrate himself.

He supposed he could just lay her head down on his pillow and walk to the kitchen, silently, as he was trained his whole life to do. Still the margin for error still  _existed,_ and that was too much of a risk for him to take. He could drink later. Who knew when she'd be able to this soundly again?

Or perhaps for reasons more selfish he couldn't help but prefer to have a dry throat and the company of the Commander, rather than getting a drink and tearing himself away from her.

 _That,_ he couldn't imagine.

 


End file.
